


The Rush

by donnersun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnersun/pseuds/donnersun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Derek and Stiles had over the summer becomes a tangible thing that Derek can wrap his hands around after he loses Cora and Boyd again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rush

**Author's Note:**

> My fix-it ficlet based on season three, episode two, “Chaos Rising” for keysmashblog’s [This Might Help](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thismighthelp/profile) challenge. Thanks to popflies for the pre-read and fr333bird for the beta.

“Get out,” Derek barked at Peter as he stumbled through the door. 

Peter, for once, didn’t argue or snark, just grabbed his stuff and slunk out of the loft and back to wherever the fuck it was that he was living. Derek hadn’t bothered to ask, even though he knew he probably should so that he could keep closer tabs on him. But tonight wasn’t the night. 

Cora and Boyd were long gone. He and Scott had lost their scents somewhere in the middle of the preserve and Derek had called the search off when Scott started to stumble out of sheer exhaustion. They needed to regroup, lick their wounds, and come up with a better plan. Derek’s wolf was lunging and snapping out of sheer frustration. The pull of his beta and his little sister was a sharp pain that radiated from his solar plexus down to his toes, but he knew he’d be of no use to them if he was drained and not thinking clearly. 

Derek realized he was still standing in the doorway, swaying on his feet, when the sound of Stiles gathering up papers made him snap out of his daze. 

“Stiles,” he started, but couldn’t find the words to continue.

“Hey, yeah, I’m gonna go. Looks like you don’t want to talk about it and I’m sure Scott can catch me up. I’m, I’m glad you’re...safe?” Stiles said, tripping over his words. 

They’d gotten closer over the summer, after Derek had gone to Stiles asking for help. Stiles had seemed happy to research and eventually, happy to have Derek’s company. Computer time in Stiles’ room had evolved into catching a movie or grabbing a burger or sometimes just sitting on the porch of Derek’s house, passing a joint back and forth and listening to the cicadas buzz. Derek didn’t know how to define it and he was pretty sure Stiles didn’t either, but it hadn’t really seemed like it mattered until very recently. Since school had started back up he’d seen less and less of Stiles and while he had tried to tell himself that it was okay, that he didn’t miss Stiles, that it didn’t _hurt_ , he was lying to himself. 

“Don’t,” was all Derek could manage before he was sliding down the wall and collapsing onto the floor. 

“Woah, Derek. Okay, you’re okay,” Stiles said, rushing over and kneeling down in front of him. He wrapped his hands around the sides of Derek’s neck and lifted his head up. Stiles paused, looking into Derek’s eyes and Derek prayed that he would find answers there so that he wouldn’t have to speak. He couldn’t, yet. 

“Alright. Come on,” Stiles said as he stood and then hooked his hands under Derek’s arms and hefted him up. “Let’s get cleaned up.” 

Stiles steered him through the loft and into the tiny bathroom, where he deposited Derek onto the edge of the tub and turned the shower on. He rocked back on his heels and untied Derek’s shoes, slipping them off and chucking them behind the toilet. He pulled Derek’s socks off and wrapped a hand around each foot as he did it, squeezing and digging his thumb into Derek’s arches. Then he motioned for Derek to lift his arms and pulled his bloodied, torn shirt off before pulling on Derek’s belt in an effort to get him to stand. He unbuckled the belt and undid his fly and then pushed his jeans down before running both hands up Derek’s sides and clasping them around his neck again. 

“You’re taking your own underwear off, dude. The first time I do that it’s gonna be with my teeth and now is definitely not the time,” Stiles laughed softly before turning around and starting to pull off his own clothes. 

Derek stripped the rest of the way down and climbed into the shower. The water was just this side of too hot but Derek wanted nothing more than for the last couple of hours to be burned away. Before he could sag against the tile and slip back down to the floor, Stiles was behind him, the press of his solid, slick body anchoring Derek and giving him something to lean back into. Stiles took a cloth and began to carefully wash the dried blood and grime off his back and legs before pulling on Derek’s hips and turning him around to do his front. When Stiles stood up from scrubbing his feet, Derek wrapped his arms around him and buried his face Stiles’ neck, only managing to take one half of a deep breath before the wracking sobs overtook him. Stiles clung to him, running his hands up and down Derek’s back and making shushing noises into his ear before kissing him on the temple and pulling away. Derek hiccuped and ran a hand over his face and then reached behind him and turned the tepid water off. They climbed out of the shower, dried off, and Derek let Stiles lead him to bed. 

Derek got in first and then reached out and grabbed Stiles’ wrist, pulling him down onto the mattress and wrapping himself around him. Stiles exhaled and Derek melted even further into him, burying his nose in Stiles’ hair, trying to settle his wolf down with the familiar scent. Stiles hummed and the steady beat of his heart was enough to finally dull the sharp, stabbing pain in Derek’s chest to an aching throb. 

“I’m gonna need you,” Derek said quietly into the cool skin of Stiles’ neck. “Do need you.” 

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ve already started,” Stiles replied.


End file.
